Terrible Things
by Rainy Illusionist
Summary: Arthur is the Prez of Hetailia Academy. He hates the BTT and Al. Using magic, Arthur planned to get revenge...but something totally different happens instead. In fact, his magic may be the start of something terrible, though small, at first...and may end life as we know it. USUK, FrUK, or Asakiku - your choice. AU. A few plot bunny OCs. Crazy A/N. Rated T for swears, violence, etc
1. Chapter 1: The BTT of Hetalia Academy

**A/N**

**ASDFGHJKL; This is the reason I haven't been updating Areyshland Isles. I wanted to make some canon School AU, since I'm having a rough time at school right now and of course it's going to either go angsty or extremely fluffy-happy. Maybe a little of both. But anyways, this story, as you can take from the title, is about something deeper than just normal high-school life. It's going to be fun and frustrating to write about, but take it from your average middle-schooler.**

**I don't own Hetalia, and I never will.**

**Beware of a few swears, violence, countries beating the crap out of each other, sick horny humor, eyebrow attacks, insults, racial slurs, etc. Your everyday fanfiction written by a naive kid.**

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Arthur was your every-day, average kid in high school. He went to Hetalia Academy, got straight-A's, was the President of their ASB, and had a decent amount of friends. The only thing un-normal about him was his tendency to try and create magic.

Magic. The word sent tingles up his spine, chilling him to the core with excitement. Everyone had told him, magic isn't real, magic doesn't exist. But, oh-ho, he was going to prove them wrong. The three idiots, that everyone else called the Bad Touch Trio, always found him as a source of endless amusement, especially the perverted French frog, Francis Bonnefoy. But this time, he was going to prove them downright _wrong._

Gritting his teeth in a maniacal manner, Arthur stomped down the hallways, his bushy brows furrowed in concentration. He wasn't going to get the spell wrong. He was going to get those three gomerals to bow down to his might, and beg for mercy. Of course, that had to be done outside of school campus, where the teachers couldn't see them. He could try pulling his magic on them when they were out flirting in HetaCentral, the shopping area outside of the Academy.

Kiku Honda, a Japanese boy of graceful heritage and Arthur's best friend, trailed behind Arthur in a submissive but cool manner. He knew what was going through the other boy's mind: revenge. Kiku had been a first-hand witness to what the Bad Touch Trio had done to Arthur during second grade, and he didn't feel any remorse to know that the Bad Touch Trio were going to feel complete pain today. In fact, he felt almost content that they were going to get injured from Arthur's magical antics, no matter how far-fetched it sounded to bystanders.

Arthur grinned happily as he continued to stomp down the long hallways of Hetalia Academy. He, the school president, was supposed to be the one enforcing the rules, correct? Today, he would enforce his rule with an iron hand on the Bad Touch Trio, the most infamous students in the school. No teacher had ever gotten the chance to send them to detention, or even throw them a nasty look. But Arthur was going to change that. He was going to end their popular lives, and change it to ones of despair and embarrassment. His hatred mingled with his excitement, Arthur flipped through the pages of his magic spellbook (or notebook) quickly, memorizing spell patterns and chants. He wasn't going to fail today. Not after all the pain of being openly embarrassed throughout his entire life, starting from second grade. He was going to get what he had always been seeking for: revenge.

As the two friends walked down the halls, inspecting classrooms here and there, they heard a loud obnoxious laugh come from behind them. Arthur groaned inwardly. It was _him,_ the most popular teen in the school. No teacher could hate the kid that was laughing behind them. He was _the_ hero, _the_ Alfred F. Jones, the hamburger-lover that had a bent sense of justice.

Another hated idiot, Arthur thought. This kid was also the source of his problems; he always broke each and every school rule, gloated about his sports and games, as well as flirted with everyone that passed by him, even men. Sadly, no one had the strength to resist the handsome figure of Alfred F. Jones, with his vivid, bright sky-blue eyes, toothy grin, and perky blonde hair. His funny little cowlick-hair-strand thing stuck up awkwardly where his hair was parted, and he wore the official uniform, only a bit more laid-back, with his unique brown blazer left completely open and his tie all disheveled and imperfect.

Arthur was, possibly, the only person in the entire Academy that held a decent reason to hate those four students. Francis Bonnefoy openly humiliated him in front of the whole school during their little ceremony into third grade. He'd leaned over, whispered something loudly into the teacher's ear, and sent a sniveling smirk at Arthur, who at the time didn't know what to expect. Without further ado, Francis had then proceeded to let his hand stray towards him – making sure no one noticed – and then pulled down his pants with such accuracy, not even Arthur realized what was going on, until he looked down and saw his formal black pants on the floor and his unicorn-boxers showing.

The other two, Gilbert and Antonio, were just as infuriating as Francis. They'd not only caught on to what Francis started, but added more spice into the pranks that followed shortly after the unicorn-boxers incident. Worms in his food, his homework torn to bits, his desk vandalized, his life thrown into ruins because of bullying. But he was going to be the bully this time. They were freshman in high school, and he had become President above even the college-level students. He was going to show them what he was made of.

Alfred. Now what could he say about Alfred? The boy always insulted him with a touch of smugness, although when they were younger Arthur had always taken care of him, even presenting him with his own batch of toy soldiers. Arthur had been only a month or so older than him. But as time passed, they'd grown apart, partially because Alfred had called him pathetic after Arthur had become subdued because of the Bad Touch Trio's antics. He said that he'd wanted independence, and grow great, instead of being stuck to a weak person like him. It still hurt Arthur each time he thought about it – Alfred's stoic, angry face, and the hot tears streaming down his own, prickling his eyes with envy and distrust. He'd adored Alfred. He'd doted upon him like his own younger brother; man, he'd always wanted a little brother, being the youngest in the family. But Alfred had destroyed the bond that they'd shared, and he wasn't going to make the first move to try and mend it. No, he didn't care.

Soon enough, the bell rang, and students sprang out from their classes singing like larks; that was, until they saw the face of Arthur Kirkland, the President. They all stood stock still as he passed among them, only allowing themselves to breathe as he nodded approval. It felt great to be President, although he was quite the dictator, Arthur mused to himself. Vice-president Matthew Williams was barely recognized, sometimes only noticed because of his uncanny resemblance to his twin brother, Alfred F. Jones. Arthur obviously had to take charge and lead surveillance through the Hetalia Academy, or else no one would listen to the school dress code. It was a miracle that he had even been voted Vice President; probably Alfred had told all his 'friends' to vote for him.

Kiku was the Secretary of the school, while Vash Zwingli was the Treasurer. Kiku was an extremely fast note taker, and very accurate, so the school was neat and organized. Vash was a perfect treasurer, considering he was a very frugal person, and made sure every scrap of money went to the right place. The school was well-run in general; even if every single position was taken up by newcomers (or freshmen).

"Dude."

Arthur ignored the man and proceeded on.

"Dude…"

Again, Arthur pretended to be distracted and scolded an ashamed sophomore for forgetting his blazer.

"_Dude!"_

Hissing, Arthur turned around to meet Alfred eye-to-eye. His bushy, caterpillar-eyebrows furrowed, making it seem like two fuzzy caterpillars meeting in the middle of his forehead. His crisp emerald-green eyes glared fiercely at his former-little brother.

"What is it?" Arthur sounded annoyed.

"Um, dude…" Alfred trailed off, a distant look in his eyes. "Uh, as I was saying," he began again, realizing that Arthur was tapping his foot impatiently on the ground, "I was wondering…you know, that, yeah, err, you seem to be having trouble runnin' the school and all –"

"I do _not_ have trouble managing this academy, thank you," Arthur scowled at Alfred. "I am perfectly capable of doing this. Do you have a problem with me doing what I have always done?"

"Dude, no!" Alfred snapped. "I wanted to ask you – wanted to ask you if you'd come and hang with me someday this week. Y'know, to…to…" Alfred couldn't find a word to describe what they would do.

"To _what,_ Alfred?"

"Ah what, just forget it, bro," Alfred facepalmed. "Forget I even bothered to ask you."

"Yes, yes, carry on," Arthur mumbled, before turning swiftly back around and marching off to HetaCentral, Kiku trailing not far behind.

Alfred watched his former-older-brother leave him, a feeling of despair overwhelming him. Here he was, trying to make amends, when he knew that they both still hated each other somewhere deep down. Yes, he disliked Arthur. Arthur disliked him. It was a mutual relationship of dislike; what could he do about it? Heaving a quiet sigh, Alfred weaved through the milling crowd inside the halls of Hetalia Academy and began to chat half-heartedly with his friends.

As this was all happening, Arthur stormed off, his heart beating nervously in his chest. He'd reacted badly, he knew; Alfred was just trying to be friendly. But why would his snobby, popular former-friend even try to go back and say he was sorry? He didn't have the guts to even say hello once and a while. Not that Arthur had any objections to that. He and Alfred were done. Trying to ignore his frantic thoughts, Arthur focused on the scene ahead, thinking mischievously of what the Bad Touch Trio would be experiencing in just a few more moments.

"Hey, Brows!" a mad cackle came from the other corner of the street Arthur was walking on.

Choosing to ignore the annoying voice, Arthur continued to stalk down the street. The jeer returned again, after a minute or two.

"Broooows! Brow-face!"

Whipping around, Arthur came face-to-face with a tall, albino Prussian. The spiteful crimson eyes glared down at emerald ones, a heated staring contest suddenly erupting. The Prussian kept up the contest until he decided to break away, muttering curses about how awesome he was and how he didn't feel like doing something so unawesome with someone as unawesome as him.

"Excuse me," Arthur said, politely, suddenly feeling a bit anxious on the inside. Here was Gilbert Beilschmidt, one of the Bad Touch Trio. Now if he could get the others to be with him…!

"So, Brows," Gilbert continued. "Unawesome Brows. Didn't know you'd be stupid enough to go lurking 'round here."

"Where are your other friends, oh supposed wise one?" Arthur said sarcastically, meaning to get Gilbert to gather his comrades.

"Oh supposed wise one? What kind of shitty insult is that?" Gilbert swore mechanically. "Anyways, Brows, they're coming. Didn't know you'd be so anxious to get to see them, hey. What, want your petty antics to go and kill us?"

"'Anxious to see them', no. 'Wanting your antics to kill us', yes." Arthur muttered.

"What?" the Prussian glanced at him with red, cynical eyes.

Arthur refused to say any more, simply waiting for Gilbert's next move.

"Ahaha, I see what you're doing," Gilbert laughed after a pause. "Waiting like a gentleman, for me to say the next thing, right? Well, Forever Alone Guy, you're gonna get a real beating once I get the rest of my Trio down here."

"I beg to differ," Arthur replied nonchalantly.

"Oh, you _beg_ to differ. No begging allowed, sucker." Gilbert snickered. "The Awesome Me won't beg to differ. I _do_ differ."

"I will choose not to answer that."

"Wasn't a question. Ain't gonna be, coz' I'm the Awesome Me, ha."

"I see. So you want to butcher the English language?"

"Look," Gilbert snapped, pushing Arthur roughly against the wall, a sneer etched into his cool features. "Buddy-boy, I know you want to get your share of revenge. But the Bad Touch Trio ain't going to let that happen, you know?" the Prussian let his words sink in. "Yeah, you know. Coz' you aren't going to mess with us, using those little tinker-toys you bring around with you. I mean, seriously, magic? That's for the kids to mess with. Or are you still a widdle-liddle-beany-baby-boy, Unawesome Kid?"

Gilbert's message tore deep into Arthur. This mere comment enraged the Briton immensely, but he chose not to show it. Or, at least, Arthur kept it neatly concealed under a calm expression.

"No, sir, but –" As Arthur was answering, he heard a signature laugh coming from behind Gilbert. It sounded like _ohonhonhonhonhon._

"What?" Arthur said, irritably, noticing a blonde Frenchman and brown-headed Spanish man trotting up beside Gilbert.

"_Mon cher!_" the Frenchman chided. "No need to be so…impolite."

"Ha, ha, funny," Gilbert shook his head. "Francis, my friend, you gotta get your act up. I mean, seriously? Being all fuzzy and nice to the guy that we've been planning to sucker down for the past few years?"

"No, I want to do it," the Spanish man smiled charmingly. "I've already called dibs on Arthur-boy here. He's mine."

"You've got the honors, Antonio," Francis nodded. Antonio gave Gilbert a thumbs-up which was returned by a brofist.

"Well then," Gilbert rubbed his hands together. "Round One, start~"

"Excuse me?" Arthur blinked, emerald eyes wide. They were actually going to try to fight him?

"Euliaaa~" Antonio sang, pouncing towards Arthur with a mock war cry.

One thing you don't do, and that's mess with Arthur when he's got his guard down. Some people threw a few rumors about him wrestling down a hot-headed pirate when he was younger. Sadly, that wasn't true, but Arthur had always been quite tough, considering he had to deal with his bullying older brothers and the cruelty he was given at school throughout his life. He could put up a very good fight, and most of them, he'd won.

When the Spaniard came at him swinging, Arthur ducked under the flurry of arms and kicked upwards at Antonio's chin. Surprised, Antonio was caught off balance, where Arthur proceeded to deal him a few blows to the chest. Antonio fell back a bit, but still had a smug smile on his face.

"Oh! You can fight!" he grinned.

"I can do more," Arthur replied coldly. "But I'd rather not play your game."

"I'm sorry, but you have to!" Antonio charged again, only to be hit squarely in between the eyes by another punch. Staggering back, Antonio managed to sidekick Arthur, who stumbled away from the blow, leaving Antonio alone. This was a good chance, Antonio thought, knowing Arthur was an extremely cautious person. Antonio charged in again, this time going after Arthur's feet. He swung at Arthur's body, making him go stiff and block the attack, but actually used his feet and kicked hard at Arthur's legs.

Arthur could feel his limbs grow heavy from Antonio's sickening blows. With a disgusting _crunch,_ Arthur realized that, maybe he was outmatched when the Spaniard was aiming aggressively. Perhaps he would have to go…offensive.

Arthur noted that Antonio wasn't even panting from the battle. The Spaniard was just yawning, bored. Annoyed, Arthur gritted his teeth and cocked his head, as if daring Antonio to come and get him. The Spaniard took the bait, rushing forward, a crooked grin on his face. Arthur began his mental incantation, before saying out loud,

"_Hanc vocem vir,i confractus resiliunt eius ossa, devorabit eius anima et dare diabolo; Ostendere eum in via quod caelum deducet, terra sub eum germinans ad vitam utens sanguinem ut a lifeline. Viva, in Terras de Mundus!"_

"H-holy Roman Empire!" Gilbert squeaked as an archaic circle formed around all of them. Kiku watched in the distance, content with the situation.

"Oh," Antonio blinked, realizing that maybe Arthur's powers stretched beyond the physical boundaries.

"That's some decent Latin," Francis narrowed his eyes, studying the glowing, changing-colored circle beneath them. Something wasn't right. Usually, whenever Arthur had tried his magic, it always ended up going 'poof', or nothing happening at all and just a lot of cursing. But now, there actually seemed to be something going amiss.

Arthur's expression had changed to an unpleasant smirk, but still gentlemanly. He had taken out his spellbook, holding it up so he could recite the incantations. Not that he really needed it; he'd memorized what he needed beforehand. Physical fights weren't his best subject. Magic, on the other hand, was something he was good at. Very good at.

After what seemed like hours, the circle began to glow a vivid crimson, matching the color of Gilbert's eyes. It began to bubble venomously, weird lines and tentacles swarming the surface of it. Before the Bad Touch Trio cold react (or escape for that matter), the circle had enclosed them in a tight space, making escape impossible.

"Mein Gott!" Gilbert yelled, feeling the tentacles scooting up his leg. "What?"

"Well, Gilbert," Arthur said, politely, "You said I wanted revenge. You were right."

"But I said you weren't going to succeed, unlike the Awesome Me!" Gilbert retorted, still looking uncomfortable.

Suddenly, the reddened circle began to hiss and expand, this time catching Arthur off guard. "Bollocks," he growled, knowing something had gone wrong. The archaic circle was supposed to be dragging them into the ground by now, suffocating them until they passed out. It was supposed to be taking their blood! The tentacles were just flopping harmlessly around their bodies, not doing much but scaring them.

With a _pop _ and then a _fizzt_, the circle roared to life, consuming the surrounding area with a bright light. Arthur knew only the Bad Touch Trio, Kiku, and himself could see this light, but the effects would still apply to everyone inside the radius of the light. The spell had malfunctioned at the last moment. Why?

Dazed, Arthur woke from his stupor and looked around him. Everything was fine; the building hadn't been destroyed, and no one seemed to be injured. The Bad Touch Trio just looked distraught and tired. In fact, Kiku was only frowning and rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Arthur threw Kiku a questioning glance. The Bad Touch Trio had nearly passed out from exhaustion and shock; Kiku wasn't even close to that stage, just mildly surprised. But then, just as Arthur was thinking that, Kiku's hazy brown eyes went wide, and he stared unconvincingly past Arthur.

"Kiku…?" Arthur trailed off.

Kiku responded by slowly pointing at what he was seeing, his arm shaking uncontrollably. Arthur followed his line of sight, and his expression of shock could rival Kiku's.

"Oh my God."

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**A/N**

**So how was it. It's only about 8 or less pages in Microsoft Word, but I'm fixing to work on it bit by bit each day. EOC is coming up, and I've got an essay to do, so I'll be pretty busy. Please review and fav, because it means a lot to me when people do that. Flames will be ignored. Critique will be loved.**

**Mild USUK, FrUK, and Asakiku. You never know what will happen...might turn into a love story /hinthint/**

**Might be a few OCs here and there. If there are any, they're to push the plot along.**


	2. Chapter 2: Arrival

**A/N**

**Okay…next chapter. Hoping I can get to the juicer part soon orz**

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_Previously on Terrible Things…_

_Arthur threw Kiku a questioning glance. The Bad Touch Trio had nearly passed out from exhaustion and shock; Kiku wasn't even close to that stage, just mildly surprised. But then, just as Arthur was thinking that, Kiku's hazy brown eyes went wide, and he stared unconvincingly past Arthur._

"_Kiku…?" Arthur trailed off._

_Kiku responded by slowly pointing at what he was seeing, his arm shaking uncontrollably. Arthur followed his line of sight, and his expression of shock could rival Kiku's._

"_Oh my God."_

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"Bollocks! What the bloody hell is this?"

"_Ohonhonhonhon, hon, hon._ Ack, my throat. What is this smoke, _mon dieu!"_

"Ah-! My little Romano tomato! Where is he, he was just right here – oh, ouch, smoke!"

"_Kesesese—_ackpth! This is _so_ not awesome at all!"

"W-what is going on? This…this cannot be good…"

Arthur could only stare at the scene before him. There were three, no, _five_ men standing in front of him, all coughing because of the excessive amount of smoke that was coming out of the archaic circle. They didn't seem all too happy, their handsome features blocked out by the grayish black smoke. Arthur saw only their bodies; one man wore a dirty green uniform, obviously from World War II; the other wore an odd blue-cape like thing and brilliant red pants; another wore a funny tan-jacket and a pair of tan trousers; the other one had a bluish uniform with the German cross, and the last one had a Japanese accent and wore a white World War II Japanese uniform.

As the smoke cleared, Arthur managed to make out the faces of these mysterious men. The one that had cursed had extremely thick black eyebrows, an annoyed scowl, scruffy dirty blonde hair, and emerald eyes.

_Oh._

The man looked exactly like himself.

…Someone needed to start explaining…_now._

"Who…who the hell are you?" Arthur gulped, shaking.

All five men turned to him with different expressions. They all looked exactly like them – there was himself, then Francis, Antonio, Gilbert, even Kiku…what had he done?

"Eh?" the man that looked like Antonio cocked his head. "Woah! We should be asking you that!" he suddenly cried, pointing at Arthur. "Your eyebrows! They—they—woah!"

"You-Spain!" Arthur's lookalike glared at the Antonio lookalike. "Why the Bloody Mary are you here, with your despicable friends?"

"England, England, _England." _Antonio's lookalike, or Spain (what the heck, did he just call him Spain?) threw England (wait, hold up, _England?_) a withering look. "Lookie here, there's no harm in asking around and having a bar party with your _amigos_ once in a while."

"A bar party? So are you twats drunk, then?" England rolled his eyes.

"_Mon ami, _I beg to differ," the Francis lookalike sighed. "we are not drunk in the slightest bit. Maybe Prussia, but not me, oho."

"Not you, France? _Kesesese, _not awesome at all. No lying! I can take alcohol three times, no, a million times better than you!" the Gilbert lookalike cackled.

"Bull!" England stomped his foot on the ground. "All three of you, stand to attention, we've got to get some damned answers here before we do anything else, much less argue!"

"Engrand-san is right," the Kiku lookalike agreed quickly. "We cannot argue amongst oursevres when there is bigger troubre at hand."

"Oh, Japan! I guess I will listen to you." France smiled winningly.

"If France says it, then I'll follow along, too," Spain nodded.

"Hey hey! Don't forget the Awesome Me!" Prussia responded hotly.

Arthur was still speechless at the random exchange the supposed lookalikes were having. They spoke with extreme familiarity, and all laughed and smiled at each other, even the one called England. They seemed to coexist nicely…something that Arthur had always dreamed of.

Kiku was also having the same inner reactions as Arthur. The lookalikes were all chatting along obliviously, trying to find a way that they could find someone who knew what was going on. They told each other what had happened, how they got to where they were, what they had been doing, and what they had planned on doing. It looked useless, though, as France began to flirt with England and they started to fight, while Japan took out a camera and Spain and Prussia began to egg them on. Kiku knew he had to be sensible in the situation, so he stepped forward, deciding that he was brave enough to confront a bunch of rowdy lookalikes.

"Herro," he began timidly, hoping to attract the newcomers' attentions. It didn't.

"Excuse me," he tried again. Nothing.

"Hey, you people, listen to us!" Arthur shouted angrily over the noise.

All heads turned to Arthur. He took a deep breath, and started to talk.

"I suppose you're all here with a reason. Calling each other country names, declaring your awesomeness, flirting, it's all normal, I suppose. Exempting the former, of course – who are you, and why do you refer to each other by these names?"

The five men contemplated their answer for a moment, before replying steadily, in unison: "Because that is who we are."

"Excuse me, again?" Arthur blinked, confused.

"We are all countries. Personifications," England offered an explanation. Arthur's emerald eyes lit up in recognition.

"My mother told me stories about it," he said, softly. "Countries would not rise from the ground, appearing out of nowhere. They learned to survive ever since they were born, and had nothing to hold on to. They were always alone, until they learned about each other. They called each other family, until everything broke apart…war, independence, disagreements, religion…opinions."

"Wow, you seem to know lots about us!" Spain said cheerfully.

"Too much." England grumbled under his breath.

"Your lookalike is smart, England. You should be happy." France scolded England.

"Well, my good wanker, you may flounce your opinion in someone else's face, thank you!" England snapped.

Knowing another fight was about to break out, Kiku intervened once more. "Engrand-san, France-san, prease do not argue over triviarl matters," he told them. They calmed down a bit, but still glared at each other once in a while.

"You all look like us. Or we look like you," Arthur chose his words carefully. "And you need places to stay, as well as a way to return to where you originally came from. Correct?"

They all nodded.

"Then how about this…we, your lookalikes, allow you to stay at our homes until you find a way back? I'm sure none of us would mind."

The countries looked at each other before nodding again, Prussia giving them all thumbs ups.

"Then it's decided," Arthur said. He looked at the half-conscious Bad Touch Trio.

"I'll give you their addresses. Just bring them home," Arthur sighed. He didn't want to mention that he was the one who probably summoned them, and knocked out the BTT. That would only end in a bad situation.

Kiku bowed to Japan, who bowed in return, and they made their way back to Kiku's dorm. Arthur did the same to England, who furrowed his eyebrows, greeting each other stiffly. The BTT were draped over their country lookalike's shoulders, before being merrily taken back to their dorms.

Everything proceeded smoothly. Arthur and Kiku made sure of that; they'd decided that their country selves could switch off and replace them at school occasionally, to get to know the area better. Arthur felt that they were taking this too lightly and seriously; real countries? He took magic seriously, but _countries? _That was too far-fetched. He truly doubted his lookalike and thought that it was all just a joke…right?

_Right, just a joke. Nothing to be panicking over, Arthur._

_ Right?_

_ Right._

Little did he know what he had gotten himself into.

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**A/N**

**Crappy ending is crappy~! R&R is appreciated, flames are not. I'll try to get to the juicy part, I swear! Super short chapter is short, too! Aiyah...**


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